


Evolution & Violence

by honeybunn



Category: Interpol
Genre: Aka paul and carlos are mentally ill and i write it because i love it, M/M, domestic AU, ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5973037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybunn/pseuds/honeybunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos has intrusive thoughts and self destructive tendencies. Paul is anxiety ridden and in love. The end. (Domestic-ish AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evolution & Violence

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes it gets a lil bit gross but who cares honestly. Tw for Carlos having intrusive thoughts that are violent.

The whiskey is cold. 

It touches Carlos' lips with a start, a spiraling, soothing sensation that somehow burns while it calms. His throat, once closed and tense, opens to swallow the drink.

He looks across the dimly lit bar to the frame of his skinny friend pressed to the wooden surface. Hes got a heavy drink in his hand and Carlos doesn't know whether to call him over or stay alone, hidden in a shadowed corner.

He chooses the latter, to let Daniel stay that charming, clear headed man he is around people he finds attractive (or important to him in the long run), and sips his drinks in the yellow lights. Carlos sits alone for a while, one of the only patrons sat on the vinyl stools of the bar. He stares out over a sea of people who flock to crowds and dance floors like they're some sort of holy ground. He sneers. 

Eventually, after about half an hour of Carlos watching re runs of reality programming on a silent TV, somebody pulls out the bar stool next to his with a loud scrape of metal to the floorboards. It's a man of average height and lilting dirty blonde hair. Almost lifeless eyes, and a monotonous voice that drawls out for a scotch on rocks.

Carlos still faces the opposite way of the man beside him, spine pressing sharply into the wooden top of the bar. He knows that this man would be an easy target for him, especially with Daniel already leaning in a little too close to somebody just at the other end of the room. He could easily get this man to leave with him.

So Carlos hatches his scheme of seduction. A plan that takes little thought and practice for him to come up with. Just the simple stuff. This person is masculine, all hard angles in his knees and his shoulders. Not the effeminate type Carlos usually goes for, just because they're so much more fun. Whereas masculine men are easy, soft pray Carlos would only have to lightly graze for them to start wanting him. 

They were the easiest because they left right after with their tails between their legs and Carlos didn't have to pretend to feel guilty for kicking them out.

So, Carlos pops a piece of mint gum in his mouth and turns to face the bartender and blonde haired man beside him. 

Carlos asks for a refill on his drink, takes a sip after its topped off, and turns to the man beside him. 

"Hey, I'm Carlos." 

The stranger smiles, his face was boyish and sloppily shaven, "Paul."

\--

(As it turns out, Paul does not leave with his tail between his legs. 

It's been a month since Carlos met him at the bar, and he still hasn't left. It isn't like Carlos wants him there, but having him there keeps Carlos grounded. Hes gotten used to Paul's low, monotone voice constantly being there now.

Paul is good company, likes some alright music, and plays guitar and sings nicely. The two could sit and talk for hours, over literature, social issues, everything they have in common and everything they don't. Paul has stern convictions and stands his ground. Which makes it better when Carlos gets under his skin, pushes him and pushes him until the blonde man snaps and yells, causing Carlos to laugh at his red face.

Then sometimes silence next to him would be enough. Carlos would lay his head down in Paul's lap, look up at him as he read and its enough. It's enough to even sit beside him because Carlos had been so tired of being alone before he even knew it. Its nice having someone around to breathe next to.

Paul is also one of the most sensitive people Carlos ever knew, is bad at hiding this fact and often has to be left alone so he won't yell at Carlos. The blue eyed man is always anxious as well, shaky hands when they go out in public that Carlos tries to ignore.

Sometimes Carlos holds his hands and presses him against hidden walls, takes advantage of him while hes like this and kisses him. Not to calm Paul down, Carlos won't ever admit that. 

Paul also has problems with being apathetic, doesn't care about anything like Carlos. Doesn't take anything too seriously like Carlos. Doesn't care what happens like Carlos.

He likes that he has somebody to be self destructive with.)

\--

Paul presses a hand into Carlos'. He pulls himself up from the floor by the outstretched hand, wraps tanned arms around the other man's neck and lays his head on Carlos' shoulder. Blonde hair against a black t-shirt, purity stained deep. 

Carlos lets the two embrace, doesn't pull away like he knows he should. He lets his head tilt up against Paul's, lets himself sigh into the other man's warm body, maybe closes his eyes a little.

Only because he wants Paul to feel okay.

Only.

And somehow they end up kissing on the sofa. Paul- chest bare and skin hot- sitting on Carlos' lap, heavy and grounding. Carlos pressing hands against the middle of his back and trying to pull him close close close. Paul is holding on tight to Carlos now, biting down on his lip and laughing. 

Then their heads lean together, too sweet to really be in character for the pair, and the pressure of lips stops in favor for that of their foreheads. and Carlos sighs, lets the feelings of Paul's breath against his lips wash over him in waves and he almost smiles in contentedness.

Soon after (too soon really) the weight of Paul's body relieves itself from him. Blue eyes twinkling down and a smile that is all lips stare down. Paul presses a kiss to Carlos, on the cheek, and turns towards the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

Carlos is confused.

\--

4 months after they met at the bar, Paul officially moves in. 

Hes got a little amount of possessions, Carlos notes as he helps Paul lug heavy boxes into the elevator. So far, Carlos has seen two boxes, two guitar cases, a trash bag full of clothes, and one dresser. The two boxes have books and CDs in them that Paul hadn't already left at Carlos' place. This includes journals Paul writes in and notebooks with tiny doodles peaking out from corners of lined paper. Some contain yellowed, fraying paper that is bound by just tatters of what cover was there originally. These boxes are relatively easy to carry.

The guitars are, too. One being the Les Paul that's loved so dearly, and another being an old, wooden, acoustic guitar. Paul is careful with these, holding them close to his body as his thick and untrimmed eyebrows furrow together. Carlos likes the confused look on Paul. Makes him look younger.

Then there's the dresser. It's old and tarnished oak. Paul insists on taking it up, needs to actually. But its heavy, heavy and compact. So the two call up Daniel and Sam, sit on Carlos' couch and eat popsicles as they wait for help. 

They eat popsicles together, the ones that Carlos used to eat when he was young. It makes him smile, looking at Paul like this, purple liquid staining his lips and his blue eyes lit up like it was Christmas.

So, Carlos showed weakness and leaned into Paul, kissed him all sweet and tender. It was nice and cool, like spring, and when Carlos pulled away, Paul was smiling and blushing. 

When Sam and Daniel finally got there, the two men could barely hear the buzzer and had to scramble for time to reach the elevator before Sam would yell. Sam, Daniel, Carlos, and Paul, all took sides of the dresser, wood digging into fingertips, grunts through the hallways. 

When they were done moving and Sam and Daniel left, the two men left laid together on the bed. "I'm so happy you're here," Paul says, and Carlos tries really hard not to slap him. 

"Me, too," a kiss to the forehead.

\--

After about half a year of being together, Carlos notices Paul falling in love with him.

He doesn't know when it started, or even how, but Carlos begins to notice the way Paul looks at him. The way Paul fawns over him and smiles at him so much. He notices how Paul holds his hand and kisses him, how Paul says his name during sex and its entirely too hilarious to Carlos.

God, being in love?

At first, he experiments with it, treats Paul all sweet and nice one day, and the next its cold shoulders and almost too rough sex. Paul doesn't seem too displeased on the bad day, just grimaces after sex and leaves quietly to light a cigarette on the fire escape. 

This is the day Carlos knows Paul is in love with him.

And it's sad, as Carlos is not in love with this man. Finds him tolerable, cute at most. Maybe if Carlos never fucked him that time back, they would have just been friends. But instead, Carlos has a man in love with him.

Carlos loves the attention though, loves how Paul treats him and loves to have sex as often as he gets to. He loves that he's treated well, followed around by a man who tries hard to hide how much he casually touches Carlos' coat sleeve, his fingers, his neck. Never leaves without placing a hand to the inside of a pale, translucent wrist.

Paul doesn't kiss him too effortlessly anymore, either. Instead always puts effort in, holds Carlos like he'll leave and Carlos thinks its great that he's so cherished. He thinks its funny that one day he might just on the spot decide to leave and never once look back to see how Paul does after it all.

Paul is sitting on the floor as Carlos thinks this, the back of his head resting against the couch cushions. Blonde hair falls over the red material. His hair has grown quite a bit since Carlos first met him, now almost touching Carlos' knees from where he leans against him. The light falls against Paul's closed eyelids, his freckled, tan skin, his perky nose, thin, closed mouth. And Carlos thinks, for a split second, that Paul may be a beautiful man.

Leaning down, Carlos grazes his lips against the sleeping man's temple. "Hey," Paul says and blinks up at him, stretches his arms out a little, "what time'sit?" Grabs Carlos' face between large hands and holds him against his skin.

"Bout 4. You just dozed off for twenty minutes, man." Carlos breathes against warm skin, feels his heart stutter for reasons he can't understand.

Paul hums lightly and lets go of Carlos, opting to instead go to their bedroom and call for the other man from inside. Carlos chuckles to himself as he crosses behind Paul, leaving the football game on TV unattended.

The mattress is soft under callused hands, 800 thread count sheets sliding under Paul's body, just below Carlos. He holds himself over the younger man, kisses and kisses him. All hands and mouths and quiet. It's nice and soft, not urgent or needy, but enough pressure to be comforting and Carlos knows how Paul tastes better than how he likes his coffee in the morning. 

A hand against his chest, Carlos looks down into Paul's eyes, sees intent there and smiles down at him. He smiles all big, not as animal, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Pulling Paul's shirt over his head, he kisses him and kisses him. 

Paul sighs into the touch, Carlos feels breath against his hair from where he rests at his chest. "Can I blow you?" Paul asks, all nonchalant, uninterested. Complete opposite of what Carlos knows he actually feels.

Carlos laughs, "sure." And as Paul flips them around so he's on top, as Paul goes down on him and envelopes him in that familiar state of being sucked down, down, down, deep in the dark, Carlos threads his fingers in Paul's soft hair, feels like he could be with one person for at least a while longer than he usually is. Like he's full, a complete person.

When he comes in Paul's mouth, he feels everything deteriorate around him. Like he and this man hes only known for a short amount of time could beat anything. Like he is on top of a mountain. Like he lords over somebody else for the first time in forever. Carlos is new, satiated for the time being.

Paul swallows like he always does. Kisses Carlos after hes swallowed like he always does. Says, "repay the favor?" Like he always does. And after he rests for about ten minutes, he fucks Paul hard against the headboard, digs his nails deep in tanned skin. He bites down on freckled shoulders and hopes Paul knows he owns him.

Carlos Dengler's property down Paul's back in blood. His dream. 

Paul comes when Carlos chokes him. Carlos comes when Paul cries out his name.

\--

After almost a year of being together, the holidays come. It's one after another after another and they come in dizzying waves of bright colors and fall leaves in New York. Then it's snow and family dinners with Carlos and Paul's families, both unrelenting and prying. It's dizzying lights flashing in Paul's face reflected off snow. It's candy corn tasting kisses and sticky hands.

Paul wears Halloween sweaters in the weeks leading up to the holiday. And on the 31st, they pop in to Sam's big party for the night. Daniel's there, too. So is Greg and Paul's friends that don't really appreciate Carlos. Paul and Carlos are Dracula and a werewolf, matching in a weird sort of way that makes Carlos' neck itch.

The night is full of Daniel gushing about the person he has an arm wrapped around, always having moon eyes, fawning. Carlos finds it repulsive but doesn't say so, smiles at them and craves to be alone. There's cheap beer there, though, and so is Paul. When Carlos gets a little too tired, he fucks Paul in Sam's bedroom. It's fast and hard, all swears and laughs. It's fun and dizzy and afterwards they smoked weed together on Sam's balcony.

On thanksgiving, they are at Paul's parents house, and on the day after, they're at Carlos' parents. Paul's family all has British accents and money, wealthy and seem to hold Paul away from them as all he does is wait on people in a coffee shop. It makes Carlos mad to see Paul be treated this way, so when they get home, Carlos lets Paul cry on his shoulder and they watch old cartoons under big, soft blankets. 

At Carlos' family dinner, there are Spanish accents and laughter. There's some "oh, so you're friend?"s about Paul, but he really doesn't seem to mind. They kiss while Carlos cuts up peppers in the kitchen. It's fun there and colorful, full of card games and multicolored lights. 

Christmas day today, and when Carlos wakes up to Paul's serene, sleeping face, he feels at peace for the first time in years. He feigns sleep until Paul shakes him awake with a start, a smile, and an arm wrapped around his shoulders. They run to the living room together and Carlos wonders what Paul got him.

Paul unwraps his presents first, peeling red wrapping paper from a new acoustic guitar, journal, and pedals. Carlos keeps the last one in his sweater pocket, holds it between his fingers, felt box smooth to his callused hands. 

Carlos unwraps presents next. Paul got him new books, all from his favorite authors, depeche mode and joy division records on vinyl, and a Stirling silver gold cross on a matching chain. Carlos kisses him in return and presses the box to Paul's palm. 

As Paul opens his last present, Carlos tries not to hold his breath. The gold chain pools in Paul's palm, a small circle pendent attached holds mother Mary's face engraved in the gold. Carlos picked it out especially for him, saw it in a store window and immediately thought of Paul. Carlos spent the last of his money from his last paycheck on it, too. 

So it makes him so incredibly pleased when Paul's face brightens and he hugs Carlos nice and tight, kisses him over and over for about twenty minutes before they go to their room. They spend the day curled up together and drinking hot chocolate, ignoring phone calls and kissing.

\--

When their one year anniversary comes around, Carlos doesn't know how to celebrate, but can read that Paul has planned something for them. So on the day of their anniversary, Carlos presents Paul with flowers and chocolates and a mixtape of songs that remind him of the other man. Paul smiles and kisses him and they dance together in the living room to Frank Sinatra until Paul suddenly announces that he has plans for them. 

They end up going out to a fancy restaurant. Carlos is nice and dressed up and so is Paul. Paul tries to hold his hands under the table and Carlos can't stop thinking about maybe choking that pretty little neck if his. Thinks of that heavily freckled face going red beneath his palms. 

When they leave together, though, Carlos only thinks of how pretty Paul can be. How soft and charming his hair is, how good the unshaven look is on his boyish face. 

Carlos fucks Paul in the kitchen. He fucks Paul in the living room, in the bedroom, between rooms. They seem happy. They are holding each other up. 

Afterwards, Paul and Carlos smoke out on the balcony in the cold weather. Paul in his slacks, Carlos in just his boxers. 

They look out over the city and sip champagne. Carlos could get used to this, he thinks. And Paul's hand grabs his. 

He feels okay.

\--

Carlos finds out that maybe he actually really likes Paul back after their year and a half anniversary. 

He can't stop staring in those blue eyes, can't stop smiling thinking about the blush Paul gets when Carlos fucks him. He thinks about Paul's big, callused hands. Paul's voice when he sings, the way he is so scared about most things. 

Carlos genuinely enjoys Paul, he really does.

It disturbs him that he does, though. 

Sometimes it frustrates Carlos so much that when he applies that steady pressure to Paul's windpipe during sex, he thinks about killing him. Thinks about screaming and yelling at him just because he can. Just because he wants to.

He never does, though. The worse hes ever done to Paul was yell at him over something he can't even really remember. 

But still, never does act on it. 

God, Carlos is becoming less and less cold and it scares the shit out of him.

\--

Carlos feels warm body heat against his, Paul's deep voice ringing in his ears. Hes talking about some new song he really likes and tells deep details about the artist that Carlos blocks out while they watch twin peaks. 

Paul is his comfort blanket now, a steady reassurance that he is alive and maybe deserves to be happy. Carlos interrupts him with a kiss, hard and stifling. Hands reach up his shirt, up his spine, touch his shoulder blades. 

Not in control, Carlos slides a little further up Paul's body, looms over him and kisses him hard. Hands on his face, on his shoulders, on his waist. Carlos doesn't care as long as they are making contact. Paul breathes a little heavy and stops reciprocating.

Carlos is scared for a second that maybe Paul is tired of him, but honestly couldn't care. Instead of pushing him off though, Paul pulls Carlos down against his body and just lays there. 

They are silent for a while, just the sound of steady breathing and Paul's heartbeat in Carlos' ears. 

And for the first time in his life, Carlos feels love for another human being. Maybe he thinks that this is the one person he could stay with forever.

He shudders and hopes to god he isn't right, but looks into Paul's eyes and sees that it will all hopefully be okay. Maybe one day Carlos won't look into pure blue eyes and see blood down the back of the only person he ever let in. 

Paul breathes out against Carlos' cheek and Carlos feels only contentedness.


End file.
